Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Grumpy & Needing A Really Big Hug

My day started out really great, woke too early, (not at all shocking for those of you that have been reading for awhile, go to bed far too late…wake up far too early. Sleep and I, well we simply don’t understand or like each other much) but was in a great, feeling rested and ready to get back to work mood. I was off for five days, even with being out of town for a couple days, that is just too long for this wine slinger. I like me some time off and all but The Wine Country is like my home, when I am away that long it feels a bit like I am living part of my life in a hotel, nice but not where my stuff lives, my people live….I was ready to get my ass back in the shop.

Had a slow, chill morning, watched our president on the news, drank my coffee, took an early shower so I had time to let my hair dry a bit, (I loathe the sitting there with the fucking hairdryer…argh, such a waste of time and nothing to do but stare at myself in the mirror…not my favorite time of day to say the least) a smooth, easy morning. The only minor hiccup was when I went to grab my color appropriate bra and I remembered that it was in the other room drying….the room that I would have to walk past our open windows to go get. Now I have made this error so many times I am beginning to wonder if there is not some part of me that likes to wiggle her little inner exhibitionist. It’s always the same, me there in my jeans…topless muttering, “dammit….” Cupping my breasts in my hands and making this rather exaggerated, somewhat leaping dash to the other room to retrieve the needed garment. Okay, best part about this scenario, I never put the damn thing on the drying room, make the goddamn leaping dash back to my room to strap the sucker on…see, starting to wonder about myself.

It was so good to be back in the store, my beloved wines where I left them…aside from the ones that sold out while I was gone, damn I love that too. Got to see my people, Merritt, Ronnie, Randy and Dale, my little heart was so happy…the grin on my face unshakeable. Got a phone call that sent me into full twitterpation mode, a friend I must confess to having a MASSIVE crush on. Isn’t that the best? The way your heart pounds out of your chest, everything makes you giggle, that vibrant, bubbly feeling of hope, want, wonder…the powerfully beautiful feeling of being spun by something as simple as a voice…an idea, a laugh. The knowing that wanting is all you can or should ever do…just makes it that much hotter. The sassy feeling was with me the rest of the day, lifted me, made me all wiggly, full of snark and nibbles.

So while walking past the cheese case this evening I noticed a lovely piece of Huntsman, (a rather powerful but delicious cheese. A layer of Glouster which is like Cheddar, a layer of Stilton topped with another layer of the Glouster) and thought, “Oh, that would be amazing on a burger” Called the hubby to be proactive about the whole, “What you feel like for dinner?” call. Gave the hubby the shopping list, (this is where I should point out that we shop daily, and by we I mean he. Call-o works from home so he does all the shopping….I plan or pick the meals, cook them but he shops and does the majority of the clean up) bought the cheese and was so looking forward to my medium rare burger with a thick slice of Huntsman with some thinly sliced red onions…what a great day right? Yeah….

The reason I was all pro burger was we have a new BBQ at the apartment, one that like works and junk. Got to say the hubby has completely avoided the whole helping with cooking ever since the old BBQ took a crap like two years ago, thing still worked but it was so uneven it was not at all worth the bickering over. New BBQ meant grilled burgers and I have to say, that sounded marvelous. Got everything ready, burgers seasoned, formed and ready for the grill, onions taking a bath in cold water to shhhh the bite and thick slices of Huntsman ready and waiting, all that was left was the grilling….sigh.

Call-o was already tucked into his burger before I was even off the couch, “Ugh! It’s not cooked” he alerted with a look of indignation on his face. “Well you cooked them” was what I wanted to say but seeing as I am of the save the fighting for when it is really needed camp. I just let it go. Next thing I know the burgers are in a frying pan, on the stove, cheese melted completely away, along with any hint of grill flavor…dammit. Again, not wanting to bicker over something so tiny I just loaded up my burger, placed a thin slice of cheese across the top of my, “looked like it once had cheese” meatball….which is what is was now that it had been steamed and robbed of anything that I had been originally interested in, now it was merely sustenance.

Sliced the gray fucker in half and went to take a bite….now, have you ever had a favorite shirt? A shirt that every time you wear it you not only feel great but you get a shitload of compliments on…guess who was wearing hers this evening?! Two bites in and there was a blob of grease down the front of my most adored shirt…fuck, fuck. I was now so steaming, (like the meatball) that I just went to throw the damn thing away…trash was too full to do so, ARGH!!! Never said a word to the hubby, like I said, I save the fights for the big stuff but, dude I was fuming by this point. Snatched the shirt over my head, washed it in the sink….still drying so the jury is still out, wish me luck.

Tried to just put dinner behind me, pretend that it was not Carl that was bugging me, debated, (in my head of course) if I was being less tolerant because I had that twitterpation call earlier..trying to reason with myself. That was when I heard a loud clink and a call from the kitchen, “Whoops, I broke it”….my colander, the one I use all the time, the one that fits perfectly across the sink…broken. I just closed my eyes, breathed deeply and reminded myself how much I love my husband and that it was just dinner, and the trash, and the colander, not him. I knew that second that I needed something indulgent, just for me, something to end the night on a high note…hit the wine fridge for something that I should have been saving. I was going to self pleasure again and just this once, I will shout it from the rooftops, “I so need to do this!!”

Grabbed a bottle of 1999 Savigny-les-Beaune from Camus-Bruchon, felt the sleek, cold bottle in my hand, noticed how my body reacted to its touch, its promise of pleasure, felt myself wanting, aching and my lips curled into a self indulgent smirk. Took notice of each and every movement of my own body, the way the tiny hairs on my arms stood erect from the chill, the way I slipped my hand around the neck of the bottle, my fingers curled, my grip tightening and my forearm flexing as I pulled the foil from the neck. The thrill of domination as I forced the cork from the bottle, the submissive flow of brickish red wine splashing into the glass…that shiver of excitement ran along my spine and I could actually feel each and every hair standing up on the back of my neck. I raised the glass, spun it, watched as the wine fell upon itself in the glass, shinny, glossy layers slipping up the sides of the glass and settling slow and motionless awaiting my next spin or demand. I raised the glass to my nose…slowly, not wanting to miss one iota of fragrance, wanted to be seduced one layer at a time….

Fucking thing was corked….I so need a hug

Went to take a bath after the wine debacle…ipod died halfway through, hot water was working though….whimper.

Michael, Thanks for the virtual hug me amigo...what a craptastic evening. Can't wait to read about that dinner. Maybe something cool like that will be happening when I come out and visit you this year...you, me, pig flesh and way too much wine, sounds awesome!

Sara, In the words of my beloved Eric Cartman, (South Park) "Dude, I'm seriously" I can tell you I was most pissed about the corked wine, (shirt was a close second) as it was to be the thing to soothe me...fucker did NOT, made me even pissier. To open an aged bottle of wine, something you have been waiting to drink, dreaming of but resisting and then have it be jacked up...ARGH! To have it happen on a night like I was already having, crushing. Today will be better, has got to be...otherwise you will be reading some Jamison induced rant tomorrow morning! (Taking deep soothing breaths).....

I am sending you a HUGE virtual hug, but may I have mine before you get that matching bra on?

I used to always tell people not to open good bottles of wine when you're having a bad day. Wine and memory are too closely linked. Many years ago my girlfriend and I were burglarized (and not the Hamburglar) twice in two weeks. After the cops left the second time we cracked open a nice bottle to soothe ourselves. Nothing wrong with the wine, but I have never been able to see that label again, even thirty years later, without remembering the awful moment when I opened the door to my apartment and saw right away that my TV and stereo were missing. The wine? Grgich Hills Cabernet. Won't go near it, wouldn't order it for the restaurant where I was a sommelier. So, friends, drink absolute crap when you're having a bad day.

And, oh, the pleasure was all mine when we spoke on the phone. My crush is even more MASSIVE than yours. As is my exhibitionist streak.

Must be something cosmic going on. Have been needing a hug something fierce recently... Perhaps it is part of the weird Pacific weather we've been getting of late. But sending you a hug across cyberspace. Definitely not the same thing, but every little bit helps!

My living room is between the bedroom and laundry room. Most of the time the blinds are pulled up just high enough from the bottom to make the nekkid dash from bedroom to laundry room (on those rare occasions) a safe journey. Of course I do have one neighbor who always steps up to look through the front door's glass while simultaneously knocking. Habit. His wife is trying to break him of it though... Hugs!